Classic Poem

" But oh, ye pow'rs on high,
Whichever from the sky,
Rul'st human nature, land and sea;
What can this horrid scene,
These screams and aspects mean,
All, all so sourly fix'd on me!
Thee therefore I implore,
If ever child you bore,
Lucina present to your pray'r;
By this vain purple vest,
By Jove, who must detest,
And cannot such proceedings spare!
Why does your forehead low'r
On me, with looks as sour
As step-dames on their sons-in-law;
Or like wild beasts, that feel
The torment of the steel,
Which from their sides they cannot draw?"
When thus, in trembling mood,
The boy had spoke, — he stood,
Of all his noble robes undrest;
A tender form and smooth
And sight enough to sooth
The fierceness of a Thracian breast.
Canidia, with her hair
Unkempt, as twisted there,
The little snakes infold her head;
Commands the bastard-fig,
That from the graves they dig,
And cypress sacred to the dead:
And eggs bedaub around,
From black toad's filthy wound,
And plumes from owl of nightly scream;
With drugs Iolchos sends,
And which Iberia vends,
Whose lands with plenteous poison teem:
And bone, that's snatch'd in spite
From bitch of greedy bite,
When hungry and about to dine;
For all these things, the dame
Prepares a Colchian flame,
The magic powder to combine.
But Sagana, with gown
Adjusted, up and down
Is sprinkling the Avernal dew;
With hair that stands again,
Like urchins of the main,
Or running boar that hounds pursue.
Veia, without controul
Of conscience, digs a hole,
And groans at the severe employ
Of sharp laborious spade,
That, when the pit was made,
Therein confin'd the buried boy
Might famish at the look
Of dainties that they cook,
And vary thrice a day the board; —
His body hid as far
In earth, as swimmers are
In streams, when to their chins they ford.
That his exhausted pitch,
And liver dry therewith,
For a love-potion might suffice;
When settled on the food,
They baffle and elude,
The wasting pupils of his eyes.
That Folia too did come,
E'en from Ariminum,
With lust or masculine excess,
In towns both small and great,
As well as in the prate
Of idle Naples was the guess:
A witch, whose magic art,
Can make the stars to start,
At sounds Thessalian, from their spheres;
And lunar orb can force,
To quit her heav'nly course,
When her inchanting voice she hears.
Canidia then in dumps,
Biting, with her green stumps,
Her thumb, whose nail was never par'd;
What said she, or what not?
" O, conscious on the spot,
Of all these deeds that we have dar'd,
Dian and Night serene,
That rule the silent scene,
What time our mystic blazes burn; —
Now, now present your face,
And on each hostile place,
Your pow'r and your resentment turn.
In gloomy glades of dread,
While now wild beasts are sped,
Indulging as they sweetly doze;
Set all the dogs to bark,
At yon old lech'rous spark,
And to the general laugh expose.
With nard, bedaub'd as rich
As essences, the which
These toiling hands of mine distill; —
Hah! what does magic ail!
Why do these charms avail
Less than the fell Medea's skill!
With which empower'd to sate
Her vengeance, wrath, and hate,
Great Creon flying she defy'd;
And with her poison'd cloak,
Consum'd in fire and smoak,
Creusa, Jason's other bride.
Yet neither herb nor root,
Of magical repute,
Have scap'd me by their craggy site; —
He sleeps in beds perfum'd,
By harlots thither doom'd,
Thoughtless of me to pass the night.
Ah! ah! he walks at large,
And has his free discharge,
Fresh from a greater wheedler's arms;
Varus, I will pursue,
O wretch about to rue,
Pursue thee with unheard of charms.
Again, for me inclin'd,
You shall return, nor find
Your poor lost wits by Marsian spells;
A greater, greater bane,
Of philters will I strain,
The more your nice disgust rebels.
And sooner heav'n shall go,
To place itself below
The sea, with earth upon the stars,
Than you shall not desire
My love with such a fire,
As burns this pitch within the bars."
At this the boy no more
Intreated, as before,
The impious hags with gentle tone; —
But doubtful, where to make
His preface, thus he spake
The curse Thyestes well might own.
" Your poys'nous drugs are strong,
Confounding right and wrong,
Yet nature cannot be destroy'd;
Such curses I will urge,
No sacrifice can purge,
And no atonement render void.
And when I shall expire,
So destin'd by your ire,
I'll be a fury in the dark;
And with my crooked claws,
I'll come to maim your jaws,
(Such pow'r have ghosts) with many a mark.
And lying on your breast,
I will deprive of rest
Your eyes, by filling them with fear;
And crowds, from town to town,
Shall join to knock you down,
Obscene old witches, far and near.
Your bodies after all,
Depriv'd of funeral,
Wolves and Esquilian birds shall share;
Your horrors and your cries,
My parents ears and eyes
Shall glut, surviving me their heir."